Dan and Chris Bang in the Back of a Car for Stress-Relieving Purposes
by Homohyeah
Summary: Buddyshipping PWP.


Just as the sun hit the roof of the car at the perfect angle to bake it from the inside out, Dan realized that having the windows down allowed rooftop snipers a perfect opportunity to take them out.

"What snipers?" Chris asked, crouching low against the steering wheel to peer toward the cloudless expanse of blue above in search of silhouetted vigilantes.

"Snipers. Guys with guns, but far away." Dan snapped, slamming his shoulders repeatedly into the back of the chair.

"I know what a sniper is, I just don't-the lever's on the bottom of the chair."

Dan kicked his heel into the fabled lever, instantly sending the passenger seat diving into the back. He let out an inarticulate noise involving equal parts phlegm and rage, and then went limp with frustration.

"And anyway, how is a thin sheet of plexiglass going to stop a bullet?"

"So between a thin sheet of plexiglass and nothing, you'd prefer nothing?"

"Well, it's a hundred degrees-literally, a hundred degrees-out there, and we're in a car parked in the sun in search of snipers that I'm pretty sure don't exist, so yes, I think I'd prefer...nothing." Chris reached down toward the pedals, where a discarded donut bag lay crumpled. Though both memory and logic insisted that there could be no pastries left in the flattened bag, Chris wistfully peeled it open and peered inside. "I don't even know what we're staking out here-this is just the gym the orthopedist uses. The odds of finding him here, let alone recording incriminating evidence-"

"Get in the back." Dan snarled, awkwardly turning himself about in the confines of the car so that he could crawl toward the back bench.

"Dan, come on-"

"Chris, get back here."

"I promised Elise-"

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Chris. That's marriage rule one." Dan was maneuvering his shirt up over his head, a difficult task considering the tacky sheen of sweat that covered him, matting the hair on his chest. He set to working his pants off as Chris grit his teeth, feeling himself give in.

Far back-too far back-Chris had discovered a method of easing Dan back from tantrums. What had once been a convenient trick had become a frequent obligation as Dan grew accustomed to the treatment, and neither Elise's exhausted protests nor Dan's staunch claim to heterosexuality could dampen his demands, or strengthen Chris's resolve.

With a lot of elbows and kicking, Chris managed to crab-walk his way into the back of the car, where Dan ineffectually defended himself from flying limbs by prodding Chris repeatedly in the ribs. A lot of grunting, swearing, and cup holders to the spine later, the two disparately sized men had fumbled until Chris lay somewhat on his back, his neck and legs folded up like a fortune cookie in the cramped confines, with Dan straddling his thighs, working with clumsy fingers to undo the button of Chris's fly.

"Ugh-why can't you wear underwear like a normal person?" Dan grumbled, tugging Chris's jeans down his hips.

"Because you told me not to. Remember? You said-"

"If I wanted someone to tell me what I said, I'd get a myna bird."

"What?"

Dan managed to free Chris from the confines of his pants. He held him in both hands, soft though he was, and rubbed him artlessly up and down, as if he were trying to chafe warmth into it. "Why can't you get hard faster?"

"Forty seconds ago, we were discussing snipers!"

"It's because you've got this big monkey dick. You barely have enough blood to power your head, let alone to work this thing."

"Would you stop calling it a big monkey dick? I mean-yeah it's big, but-it's not a-it makes me feel...cheap." Chris managed to frown, despite the small man giving him a feverish handjob.

"You're getting an old-fashioned from a guy in the back seat of a sedan outside of a gym in downtown L.A. You're not exactly Princess Di." Dan had managed to work some stiffness into Chris's cock. True to the rest of his anatomy, Chris was generously proportioned to a point of near inconvenience; both Dan and Elise had learned the art of skewering themselves on a semi-erect Chris. It had its own appeal, resulting in a sensation a bit like being pumped full of warm foam, filling crevices in a cooperative, liquid-like fashion rather than slamming orifices into its own shape.

"Just promise you won't sp-" Chris was cut off by a guttural sound in the back of Dan's throat, and then by the soft "ptoo" of Dan releasing a thick wad of spit on the nectarine-size head of his dick. "Ugh. You know, when Elise wants to wet my dick, she just gives me head."

"Elise doesn't respect herself." Dan worked the spit down the length of Chris's shaft. "Besides, you ever think about this? This-" Chris yelped as Dan gave him a clumsy squeeze, "-goes in my butt. Then it goes in Elise's mouth. Then you kiss Elise's mouth. Ergo, you kiss my ass."

"I shower."

"I've seen you shower. You spend no time on the undercarriage."

"When have you seen me shower?"

"Irrelevant. If you want a long, romantic blowjob, talk to your wife."

Dan hoisted himself up onto his knees, distributing his weight between the center console between the two front seats and Chris's gut. Using much more tenderness than he had with Chris, he slipped two fingers down the crack of his ass, gently working his way in, and then spreading himself open. Chris let out an involuntary hum as Dan lowered himself gingerly onto his thick cock.

What had once been an extensive rigamarole had been faded through practice into a perfect fit. Dan's insides gave way to the familiar pressure of Chris, pushing warmly into the bottom of his guts. While Dan grit his teeth, staring almost accusingly at the overhead light, Chris dissolved almost instantly into cross-eyed pleasure, his fingers squeezing into the pudge of Dan's hips.

The air in the car was slow and dry, scraping at the insides of the men's' mouths and throats, parching them down to the lungs. Chris's panting had a clicking echo, and Dan felt a nosebleed brewing deep in his sinuses. Dan felt as if his groin and his body were in different dimensions-in one, his neck ached from crouching, the sweat trickling down his abdomen itched, his thighs were beginning to stitch, and breathing itself was painful. In the other, warm comfort radiated up from his groin, pulsing into the rest of his lower guts like the pulse of a lighthouse.

"Do the finger thing." Dan mumbled through a clenched jaw.

"Zswheh?" Chris responded, already half brain dead.

"The finger-do the finger thing. Now."

Chris's dick had the precision of a sledgehammer. While he dug deep into Dan, rubbing him in what felt like his center, he worked one quarter-thick finger over his cock, hooking it in toward Dan's belly.

"Higher. I said higher. There-there. Go slow. Okay. Faster. Faster. Fash-fashter." Dan bounced his ass rapidly against Chris's pelvis, while Chris bucked like a rodeo bull, rocking the car on its shocks. He wiggled his finger into Dan's prostate arrhythmically, pressing blindly against the wall of his insides. "Okay-okay- _wow_ -"

Everything in Dan tightened as if someone had pulled a drawstring. His knees bumped together awkwardly, and he lost his footing, dropping down so that all of his weight rested squarely on Chris's throbbing dick. Chris pounded ahead, tongue lolling like a dog, toeing the edge of an orgasm with the twitching of Dan's ass.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow," Dan grumbled, in need of a mantra though nothing hurt. Arcs of jizz spurted up from Dan's bobbing penis, splattering onto Chris's chest and chin.

"Say my name." Chris begged breathlessly.

"No." Dan quivered violently, passively riding out the last few seconds of his orgasm.

"Please?"

Dan sucked a bit of drool in from the corner of his mouth, his digits tingling. He considered the request, still glaring up at the overhead light, unwilling to make eye contact. In a choked, low tone, he admitted, "Chris."

With what felt like the force of a fire hose, Chris came deep into Dan, his dick twitching like a fish on a dock. Dan either came again, or the old one kicked back into gear; either way, he leaned back, his sinuses finally giving way to the aridity of the car and emitting a torrent of dark blood that dribbled down his chest, and rode the warm wave as Chris spurt torrents of cum up into him, one hand bruising his hip.

As they finished together, Dan lay back, pressing his cheek to the relative coolness of the window. His nose dripped down into his chest hair, his ribs thumping up and down with his labored breath. After a few minutes of sleepy silence, during which Chris softened inside Dan, making him feel like a teddy bear full of fiberfill, Chris spoke up.

"Feel better?"

Dan peered out the window. "A little."

"I'm so thirsty."

"We've all got problems." Elbows shaking, Dan lifted himself up and off of Chris.

"Are you bleeding?"

"Yes. Shut up."

"You wanna go home and shower? We can finish the stakeout later."

Dan glared at the empty entrance to the gym through the steam on the window. He wiped his nose on the back of his wrist, and then his wrist on the back of the passenger seat. "Okay. But I wanna shower in your shower. My shower's full of orthopedic equipment."

"Okay. But don't use Elise's loofah. She made it very clear that she doesn't like sharing that."

"Well, your wife is more jealous of a loofah than she is of you." Dan groped around the bottom of the car in search of his discarded pants. "How does that make you feel?"

"...Eh."


End file.
